The Challenge
by HaleKent
Summary: This was written for a challenge I found on here. I set it during "Fool for Love." While Buffy is listening to Spike's memoirs about killing Xin Rong and Nikki Wood, she finds herself thinking very inappropriate things about said vampire. Humor, angst, and a bit of romance. SPUFFY! COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**The Challenge: by singerofthefaythhymn**

**Pairing**- Spike & Buffy. **Rating**- All. **Seasons**- After high school.

_A story in which-_

Pool is played.

A poem is discovered.

Spike is concerned about hair.

Mention of Batman.

**One, two, three (or all) of the following quotes must somehow be incorporated. Whether it is mentioned, said, read, remembered, or kept in mind for a theme**.

"Desire, even in its wildest tantrums, can neither persuade me it is love nor stop me from wishing it were." W.H. Auden (1907-1973)

"The raging fire which urged us on was scorching us; it would have burned us had we tried to restrain it." Casanova (1725-1798) _Memoirs_

** "The greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do." Walter Bagehot (1826-1877)

** "Thou art to me a delicious torment." Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)

Asterisks by quotes from the prompt are the ones I used.  
I own nothing. Joss Whedon and ME does, blah blah, you know the drill.

* * *

She really, really didn't want to be here. But in a way, she did, or else she would be somewhere else. Somewhere with Riley. That stupid, stuck in the 80s vampire had managed to drive that stake into her stomach. _Damn, it hurts,_ she thought as calmly slid into her seat. _He_ would be coming tonight, and that's why she didn't want to be here. It was times like this that she really hated vampires. Especially annoying as hell, platinum blond ones all dressed in black, leather, and chunky old boots, that seemed to come around at the most inopportune moments. She slid her chin into her palm as she waited for him to show.

She hated so many things about him that she didn't know how it was possible to actually stand a night with him. At her request no less! She hated that he could, and would, do almost anything just to piss her off. Like constantly bringing up that spell. _Why, oh why, couldn't Giles have done a Memory spell on us after that?_ She hated being reminded of so many things that night: sitting in his lap, trying to ignore the way he was pressed against her in _every_ way, the way he would whisper softly in her ear, the way his lips felt. She shuddered and sighed simultaneously.

"Thinkin' 'bout me, pet?" he asked casually with a smirk as he snuck up behind her. She jumped as his breath touched her neck, and groaned internally when she realized he was right. Not that she would ever admit that. Particularly to him.

"In your dreams, Spike. Wait, do vampires dream? I mean, I know they sleep, but do you dream?" she asked with false perkiness. No need for him to know she was actually super depressed right now.

"Oh, yeah, we dream, luv. Wanna know the one I had last night?" he asked, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Definitely not," she said, scoffed. She could feel him studying her, gauging her reactions to his presence. She tried to will away the goose bumps that appears on her arms, and desperately ignored the fact that it had nothing to do with him being a vampire. Hell would freeze over before she admitted being attracted to him. And for some reason, it usually was stronger when she was beating him up for information. _Must be a Slayer thing_.

He sat across from her at the small table, eyeing her intently. He sipped his beer and made a look of disgust as it travelled down his throat. "You know," he began, "there're quite a few American beers that are highly underrated. This, unfortunately, is not one of them." He shrugged and downed the rest of the mug's contents anyway, leaving her with a disgruntled look on her face.

"Update, Spike. We're not here to discuss the fine choice of hops," she said with more malice in her tone. She ignored the way he changed his posture as she did so. "It's about two Slayers: one in China during the Boxer Rebellion, one in New York. Both got killed by you," she continued, flashing the money she held. She almost laughed as he missed snatching it from her. "Tell the tale, you get the cash."

"Right. You want to learn all about how I bested the Slayers and you want to learn fast. Right, then. We fought. I won. The end. Pay up." If she wasn't going to play nice, neither was he.

"That's not what I-" she started, rolling her eyes at his words.

"What did you want, eh? A quick demo? A blow-for-blow description you can map out and memorize? It's not about the moves, luv. And since I agreed to your little proposition, we can do this my way. Wings," he said with a small smile.

"What?"

"Spicy buffalo wings. Order me up a plate. I'm feelin' peckish." She groaned and turned to catch a server's attention. The "stabbing" pain from her wound caught her off guard. Unintentionally, she grimaced and let her hands grab her side for a moment, but it was enough to catch his attention. There wasn't much he could miss, anyway. "As I thought. Some nasty got a little taste of you."

_Wish you would get a taste of me, _her ID thought openly. _He should _not_ be able to say something like that and I think that,_ she reprimanded. "Don't get all excited. I'm fine."

"Oh, right," he said, almost laughing. "Stuck in a dark corner with a creature you loathe, digging up past uglies, 'cause you're fine." He obviously didn't believe her.

"Just tell me what I want to know," she almost pleaded.

"I told you," he enunciated. "No one's narrating on an empty stomach here."

_You could always eat me. _She almost groaned at her inner thoughts. _Damn ID. If you don't shut up..._ So, she said the only thing she could think of. "Were you _born _this big a pain in the ass?" There. That'd get him to get on with it.

"Thou art to me a delicious torment," he smiled.  
"What is that? Emerson?" she said, furrowing her brows as to make sure that the correct

reference.

"Very good. Seems our girl has learned a few things after all," he applauded lightly.

"Well, I don't pay three grand a semester to do nothing. I've learned some things," she said defensively.

"Well, well, who'da thunk?" he said in mockery.

She almost smiled. Almost. Then she remembered where she was, and whom she was with and the motion faltered immediately. "How about this? I'll order your stupid wings, and while we're waiting, you can start the story?"

"Deal." He said, crossing his arms in front of him. She got up to order the wings, but he stopped her as she passed. His hand softly brushed her arm, but it caught her off guard so much that it had the same effect as his punching her in the gut.

She whipped her head around and faced him, not realizing how close he had gotten. His body was less than an inch away from hers, and although she had the urge to push him away, she had a greater urge to bring him closer. "What?" she asked in a whisper.

He grinned broadly as he heard the effect his closeness had on her. He heard her breathing and heartbeat quicken and her eyelids close. "I'd like another beer," he breathed against her cheek. He saw her cheeks flush, eyes pop open, and she quickly stepped out of her haze.

She suddenly felt like hitting him. _How dare he invade my personally space like that? _her mind screamed. _How dare I want to be closer?_ She was mortified. She shouldn't be feeling like this. She shouldn't want to jump his bones, or anything of the sort. She should want to kill him. To drive a wooden stake through his heart. However, part of her...

"Ya alright, luv?" he asked, following behind her.

"Peachy," she lied, wishing it was too dark for him to see her face. Knowing him, he'd know she was lying.

"Keep telling ya'self that." They approached the not-so-packed bar, and he caught the bartender's attention.

"An order of spicy buffalo wings, a beer, and a coke, please," Buffy said, pulling the money from her pocket. She saw a quick movement next to her, and saw that Spike had already pulled out a wad of twenties. He smoothly gave the man his money, and slipped the rest into his pocket. She scoffed disbelievingly.

"What?" he asked, retrieving his change.

"If you have all of that, why are you so desperate I pay you?" she said. She nodded thanks to the bartender as she got her drink and began walking back to the table. She knew he'd follow.

They sat down and he shrugged. "I never said anything about you paying me. You offered. And who am I to deny free money?" he chuckled.

"Well, in that case," she said, tucking the money in her pants. She tried to ignore his eyes follow her hands and linger there. "So, start talking," she said with a bittersweet smile.

"Right then," he said, shaking his head. And so he started his tale. "It started in London, in 1880."


	2. Chapter 2

"Right then," he said, shaking his head. And so he started his tale. "It started in London, in 1880."

"Oh, god," she groaned. "That's 120 years of history!"

"Hey, this is my story! I'll tell it how I want," he snapped. She held up her hands in defense and allowed him to continue. "As I was saying..."

She listened, even though she knew this was going to be boring. Spike, or William, as a human? She wondered if he would really be as "bad" as he had claimed to be. It sparked her interest when he said he was a poet. She never really pegged him as a poetry-type guy. He said something about them laughing at him. And before she could catch herself, the words were out of her mouth.

"Excuse me?" he asked, dumbfounded she would ask.

"The part of your poem that they were making fun of. What did it say?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. She wondered for a moment if it was stiff as it looked and how it would feel if she ran her hands through it. She blinked heavily for a moment before responding. "My heart expands/ Tis grown a bulge in it/ is spired by your beauty/ Effulgent." She was quiet for a moment. She felt as though she had heard or read that somewhere, but she wasn't sure. "Well?" he asked, looking at her carefully. She thought for a moment that she could see pain and caution in his eyes.

"I think I've read that somewhere before," she said honestly. With him looking at her like that, it was hard to lie.

"Don't think that's possible, pet. I ripped that up that night. Now, if you're finished interrupting me?" She allowed him to continue. She listened as he talked about Cecily, and she immediately found it disturbing that she felt a little jealous. No guy had ever written poetry about _her_ before, and at the rate she was going now, she doubted they'd get a chance. But she continued to listen to his low voice. Many times, she caught herself wondering what he had said, because she was so consumed with listening. His voice seemed nearly hypnotic in this low light. A part of her found it ironic that as soon he had met Drusilla and been changed, their order was up.

He dropped the story instantaneously as the food arrived. He began to ask about her. "Spike, this isn't a date," she said with a laugh.

"Never said it was, Buffy; however we are two... acquaintances... wishing to know something else about the other. So. I've started answering your questions. While we're taking a break, you answer some of mine."

It didn't sound too bad. "Okay. What do you want to know?" she said, taking a bite of a wing.

He leaned forward, letting his features come into the light. "How bad was Angel in the sack?" he said with a fantastic grin.

She coughed several times, trying not to choke on the bite of chicken she just inhaled. She winced as the coughing hurt her stomach, and it was a minute before she was able to breath normally again. "You can't be serious!" she exasperated.

"Serious as a heart attack," he chuckled.

"And why should I tell you?"

"Because if you don't, I'm not going any further than this," he said, cleaning his hands on a wet-nap.

"Fine... He was... okay, I guess. I mean..."

"So, you didn't get off?" he asked blatantly.

"What? Of cou-"

"There's no point in lying. I can tell when you are anyway." He reclined into his seat and watched her.

She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. She frantically tried not thinking about how attractive he looked sitting across from her, and definitely not about how easy it would be for him to "get her off." "No. I didn't. It was my first time. He was really gentle and caring..."

"But you were hoping for something a little better?" he asked, curling his tongue behind his teeth.

"Well... yeah. I had heard girls talk about it like it was something spectacular, and I was there wondering, 'That was it?'"

He couldn't control the laugh that he belted. He knew it was true, that Angel wasn't very "spectacular" but he never dreamed Buffy would admit it.

"What?" she said, blushing and laughing. "Spike, stop laughing! It's not funny!"

"Oh, yeah, it is, pet. If you knew the poofter like I do, then you'd think it was funny, too." A few moments passed and their laughter died down. He knew this was another chance to strike. "So, how's Captain Cardboard then?"

She had no qualms about answering this time. "Riley's good. I mean, he's more than good. He doesn't have to worry about hurting me..."

"But...?"

"But...? What?"

"But there's something else. C'mon, luv. Spit it out."

"Okay, okay..." She took a deep breath. "It's just, that's the problem. He can't hurt me, but..." she looked down at her rough looking nails and picked at one of them.

"You're scared you'll hurt him," he said quietly. She nodded. He thought for a moment that he could see a tear fall down her cheek. "Humph..." he grunted. " You know what you need?"

"A lot of things," she said quietly. "What do I need, Spike?" she looked at him curiously. Her eyes were glazed over, and she was trying forcefully to not cry, at least not here and not now.

"You need someone who you can be yourself around: someone where you don't have to worry about keeping secrets, or losing souls, or hell, being too rough. You need someone as strong as you, to keep up with you, and you don't have to constantly worry about them getting hurt..." he stared deeply into her eyes, and prayed silently she would catch the hint he was pushing. He didn't want to say too much though. He might give something away.

"Yeah, well, when you find him, let me know," she snorted. She pretended not to think that he was talking about himself. He fit into that category all too well. When it came to fighting, he was just as good as she was. He had no soul to lose. He knew her secret, and she knew his. She could only imagine how well he would complement her. She noticed a pool table open up, and she carefully slid out of her seat. "C'mon. Let's play. You can finish your story."

He watched her thinking about everything he said, and he knew he had implanted a thought. Maybe that was all he needed. He followed her to the table and racked the balls. He allowed her the first shot as he continued talking. He told her of hearing about the first Slayer, how Angelus quaked in his shoes, while he was excited. He wanted to see her, fight her, _taste _her. Hearing about it made her blood boil, but in a very good way. She knew he could see her reaction and probably sense her discomfort, but there wasn't really anything she could do about that.

**"**So you traded up on the food chain. Then what?" she said nonchalantly.

"No, please," he chuckled. "Don't make it sound like something you'd flip past on the Discovery Channel. Becoming a vampire is a profound and powerful experience. I could feel this new strength coursing through me. Getting killed made me feel alive for the very first time."

"How ironic," she said, taking aim at her next shot. She could feel him behind her, but she ignored him. However, she couldn't ignore the way he lightly touched her shoulder, and she shot the cue ball off the table. She quickly apologized and captured the ball. She realigned her aim and shot more carefully. She didn't notice the look on his face as he watched her. She stepped away from him, but quickly found herself in his hold. Running on pure instinct, she grabbed her stick and held it between them, careful to use it as a weapon as necessary.

"Lesson the first: A Slayer must always reach for her weapon." She watched as he vamped out, but wasn't scared a single bit. Not even when his mouth was so close to her neck. "I've already got mine." She shuddered as his lips grazed her neck. She'd never known a light kiss could feel...

"A good thing, too," he said. "Become a vampire, you've got nothing to fear. Nothing but one girl. That's you, honey. Back then, it was her," he said in awe. He launched into the tale about Slayer number one.


	3. Chapter 3

"A good thing, too," he said. "Become a vampire, you've got nothing to fear. Nothing but one girl. That's you, honey. Back then, it was her," he said in awe. He launched into the tale about Slayer number one.

And so she listened and watched as this cat-like being took shots and stalked around her. She would be moronic if she didn't admit, at least to herself, that he was very attractive. And a part of her wanted him. Wanted him to _see_ her, _fight_ her, and _taste_ her. She shouldn't want that...  
"That was the best night of my life," he said, and some part of her hated to hear that, and it didn't have anything to do about the slayer being killed.

"So, you got off on it," she finally said. She knew it was true. It happened with Faith, too. And she felt it. Only when fighting him though.

"Well yeah. I suppose you're telling me you don't?" he scoffed and looked away. "How many of my kind you reckon you've killed?"

"Not enough," she said easily.

"And we just keep coming. But you can kill a hundred, a thousand, and thousand-thousand and the armies of hell besides and all we need is for one of us—just one—sooner or later to have the thing we're all hoping for."

"And that would be what?" she asked, holding her breath as he neared her.

"One good day," he whispered. They were so close now. She wanted to just reach up and press her lips to his. She wondered if they were as soft as she remembered. Instead, she pushed him away, and glared at him. "Hey! You asked, and I'm telling. Problem with you, _Summers, _is you've gotten so good, you're starting to think you're immortal."

"Not really. I just know I can handle myself."

"Really? So, how do you explain this?" he asked, jabbing at her wound, causing them both considerable pain. They howled in response, acquiring glances from around them. She tried to explain, but soon the patrons looked away.

"So that's it? Lesson over?" she gasped, wishing the pain would stop already.

"Not even close," he muttered, picking up the stick again. "C'mon." He walked out of the club, knowing she was on his tail.

They stood there, facing each other, waiting for the word. "Give it to me," she said. Immediately, he made his move, and she followed his lead. On instinct, she turned and grabbed his throat, pushing him against a wall. He only laughed in an extremely creepy way. "What?" she asked, not budging.

"Lesson the second: ask the right questions. You want to know how I beat 'em?" She shoved him away, but continued to glare at him. She backed away, and he followed. "The question isn't 'How'd I win?'. The question is 'Why'd they lose?'."

"What's the difference?" He turned the stick in his hand before shoving it towards her, just an inch shy of her neck. She didn't even flinch.

"There's a big difference, luv."

She easily kicked the stick from his hand. "How'd you kill the second one?" She was all business now.

"A bit like this," he said, jabbing towards her, intentionally missing.

"That didn't hurt," she gritted.

"I knew I couldn't touch you," he said, brushing past her. "With no intent to hurt you, then the chip they shoved up my brain never activates. If on the other hand," he said, vamping out. He lunged forward a foot and immediately retreated in pain. "See, now that hurt."

"Yeah?" she asked taking a small step toward him. "This hurt, too?" She punched him in the stomach, then again in the face, knocking him to the ground.

"Yeah. Definitely pain there," he said, trying to catch the breath he didn't need.

"How'd you kill 'em, Spike?" she said, starting to become angry. He stood and made a punch toward her, which she easily deflected, flipping him back onto the ground. She straddled him, producing a stake and aimed it at his heart. _Should've done this years ago,_ she thought. A portion of her smirked because she wasn't sure if she was talking about straddling him or putting a stake through him.

He grabbed her wrist and pushed it away, wanting the damned thing away from his dead heart as quickly as possible. "You're not ready to know," he provoked.

"I'm ready," she insisted, pushing the stake closer.

"Okay, then. Went like this." He flipped her off, and they soon began the movements as if the entire thing were choreographed. "The first one was all business. The second one, she had a touch of your style. She was cunning, resourceful... oh, and did I mention? Hot." She felt her skin heat, as if it was her he was talking about. "I could have danced all night with that one."

"You think we're dancing?" she asked, blocking a punch.

"That's all we've ever done."

She knew he wasn't trying to hurt her, but she still felt nervous as he lunged towards her. This was something she never tired of. She loved fighting a skilled opponent. She loved being able to best them. She loved the adrenaline rush and the excitement. It was rare that someone could get her blood pumping like this. But Spike could do it. Every time. His fighting tactics were unlike anything she had ever experienced. Every time something was different. Every time it got harder to beat him. But she was always a hair quicker, a touch stronger. That's what she was made for, after all.  
"And the thing about the dance is, you never get to stop." He picked up the stick and starting twirling it. "Every day you wake up, it's the same bloody question that haunts you: is today the day I die?" He attacked. She blocked. And the fight continued. "Death is on your heels, baby, and sooner or later it's gonna catch you." He was panting now, as she stood over him calmly. She wondered why he was breathing so hard. He didn't really need air. He wasn't moving, so she decided she would. She inched closer, hypnotized by his words and gestures. "And part of you wants it... not only to stop the fear and uncertainty, but because you're just a little bit in love with it." Punch.

_Never,_ she thought. _Never going to want death. Never going to want anything that has to do with death. Never going to be in love with the idea of dying. Never going to…_

"Death is your art," he said. He was on his knees, staring up at her. She pretended not to enjoy that look he was giving her. "You make it with your hands, day after day. That final gasp. That look of peace. Part of you is desperate to know: What's it like? Where does it lead you? And now, you see, that's the secret. Not the punch you didn't throw or the kicks you didn't land. She merely wanted it. Every slayer has a death wish. Even you." He stood and faced her, and he waited. "The only reason you've lasted as long as you have is you've got ties to the world... your mum, your brat kid sister, the Scoobies. They all tie you here, but you're just putting off the inevitable. Sooner or later, you're gonna want it. And the second- the second-," he said, smacking his hands together, just an in from her face, "that happens... You know I'll be there. I'll slip in. Have myself a real good day. Here endeth the lesson. I just wonder if you'll like it as much as she did," he finished.

"Get out of my sight, Spike. Now." She felt sick. She really did. She had just heard a murderer tell his side of two important murders, but that wasn't all that made her feel bad. It was that, but it was the fact that something inside her knew he was right. She was going to get tired of doing the same thing, day after day after day. One day, when her friends, family, and watcher would be gone, she'd want to be gone, too.

"Ooh. Did I scare ya?" he taunted. "You're the Slayer. Do something about it. Hit me." It sickened her that hitting him wasn't what she wanted to do, and she felt he sensed that. "Come on. One good swing. You know you want to." He was closer to her now. Easily within arm's reach. She could. She could hit him, and she would like it. But how long could that go on?

"I mean it," she said, trying her best not to falter, especially now.

"So do I. Give it to me good, Buffy. Do it!"

_Why does he have to use his mouth that way?_ She wondered. "Spike," she said. Rather, moaned. _Where the hell did that come from?_

"Come on," he said. He stepped closer, and subconsciously, she did, too. "I can feel it, Slayer." He was panting again. His voice was coming out huskier with every syllable. "You know you want to dance."

She was quiet as she backed away, but he only followed. "Say I do. Say I want to," she said, starting to reach into her pocket. He didn't let her finished. Hearing that was enough. The small distance between them was even smaller as he closed in and attacked. At least that's what she thought until his lips crashed onto hers. In shock, she didn't move. She didn't give in. "What—" she started to say, but her words soon turned into moans as she felt his tongue slide along her lip.

There was that part of her that begged her to push him away. Not only was she in a relationship with Riley, but this was also Spike! Spike: The Big Bad, Slayer of Slayers, William the Bloody, and damn Captain Peroxide!

Then there was the other part that sighed, _finally._

As a Slayer, her instincts usually ruled her life. It's what helped her stay alive. It's what told her when to run if something seemed a little too rough and that she should come back later. It's why she was currently against a wall, outside The Bronze, making out with an incredibly annoying, incredibly sexy vampire.

Their hands were everywhere, feeling, touching, groping. He finally removed his mouth from hers, giving her a moment to breath before kissing her neck. "Oh, god," she moaned quietly. She opened her eyes for a split second, and it was just long enough to bring her out of her reverie. "Stop," she managed to pant.

"Why?" he asked, stopping to stare into her glazed over eyes. She blamed her heavy breathing on the fact that he was kissing her fiercely, and not allowing her to breathe, when in reality, it was the look he was giving her. She was honestly surprised he stopped.

"Because… we can't do this," she admitted. Her eyes seemed to have trouble staying open. She desperately wanted to just close them and continue kissing the beautiful man in front of her.

"Again, why?" he asked. "I want you. You want me. What's the problem?" he asked, sinking his head forward again.

"I'm not going to cheat on Riley," she said as she snapped her eyes open. They locked onto him with a glare, and she slipped away from him. The green in her eyes seemed to burn into his nonexistent soul, but he stared back, and allowed himself to be engulfed. He'd do anything to have her look at him, in any way.

He allowed her to move away and said, "Okay, love. I understand." He sighed and shook his head. "Goodnight, Buffy." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked away, leaving a very confused and very upset Slayer behind.


	4. Chapter 4

He allowed her to move away and said, "Okay, love. I understand." He sighed and shook his head. "Goodnight, Buffy." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked away, leaving a very confused and very upset Slayer behind.

Systematically, she began her walk home. She hugged her jacket closer to her as she tried to decipher tonight's events. Spike told her what she wanted to know, but he didn't take the money, which was strange. It's not like it was much to begin with, but that's beside the point. He had kissed her, very well, too. She didn't know—oh, yes she did. That spell. She _did_ know how well he could kiss; however, she hadn't remembered how he could take her breath away. She found herself touching her lips, remembering how it felt to have his on hers. Quickly dropping her hand, she realized Riley had never made her feel that way._ God, am I some kind of freak? Do I have some kind of vampire fettish?_

As if on cue, a stray vampire appeared in front of her and she groaned. "Not now," she said as she swiftly staked him.

"Ssssslayerrr…" it hissed as it turned to dust.

She slipped the stake back into its place and turned towards her house. She was surprised to see lights on. It wasn't very late, but her mom and Dawn were usually asleep by now. She opened the door and called upwards. "Mom?"

"Up here, Buffy." She hung her jacket up and began walking up the stairs. She looked in to check on Dawn, and then she realized she wasn't in there.

"Mom, where's Dawn?" she asked, forcing herself not to sound panicked.

"Oh, she's at Janice's," Joyce said calmly. Buffy rounded the corner into her mother's room and was surprised to see her mother packing an overnight bag.

"Mom, are you okay? Where are you going?"

"Have you seen my conditioner? I can't find it," she said.

"Have you checked under the sink?"

Joyce walked into her bathroom, and Buffy could hear her shifting objects around. "Ah ha!" she said triumphantly. "Thanks, sweetie."

"Mom, where are you going?" she asked again.

Joyce sighed. "You know those headaches I've been having? It might not be nothing."

"What is it?"

Well, my doctor wants to do some more tests and have me stay overnight for observation. I'm going to have a CAT scan." Joyce finally said reluctantly. She didn't want her daughter to worry about her. The young woman had too many things to deal with.

"Oh," was all the younger Summers woman could say. She watched as her mother zipped her bag and came towards her.

"I'll be fine, sweetie. Really," she said, not fully believing it herself. But she had to be brave. She kissed her daughter's forehead and began her descent down the stairs.

"Do you want me to go with you? Or to drive you? I'm not very good, but I'll be careful…" she promised.

"No, it's fine. Stay and get some rest. You look like you had a rough night."

She didn't say anything. She followed her mother out to her car, and gave her a (humanly) tight hug. "I love you, Mom," she said, trying not to cry right then.

"I love you, too, Buffy. I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep good." She stayed in the driveway until the car was out of sight. She willed herself to move. She walked through the front door and locked it. She didn't want to be inside. It was too quiet, too empty. Her feet carried her out the backdoor, until she finally stopped on the steps. It wasn't so quiet out here. Out here, she could hear the crickets, the wind, and the cars going down the street. Anything was better than the stillness that was inside her home.

She sat down and pulled her knees as close to her chest as she could get. She held her knees and put her head on them. It didn't take long before her tears began to fall from her eyes. She had held these in too long tonight, and it almost hurt to finally release them.

She cried for how unfair life is. For herself, for being the Slayer and for being the much less than perfect daughter. She cried for Dawn. She was so young, and yet, she already knew of all the things that go bump in the night. She was being hunted by a demonic hell goddess, who wanted to kill her so she could go back to her own dimension.

She cried for the slayers that had been called and hadn't had everything she did. They were too young to have so much responsibility thrust upon them. They were too young to be killed.

She cried for the two Spike had killed. He sought them out, and it wasn't fair. She could only image how much longer they would have lived if he hadn't been there. If that woman would have loved him, then he wouldn't have been turned by Drusilla, and then those slayers wouldn't have died.

Most importantly, she cried for her mother. It wasn't fair. Her mother was too young be sick. She still needed her. _Dawn_ still needed her. There was so much she still needed to learn from her. She couldn't let her die. She wouldn't!

She heard something in front of her, and her head snapped up. It was the number one—well, number two—person that she didn't want to see. "What do you want?" she asked, not bothering to remove the tears from her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, ignoring her question. She scoffed. "I saw your mum drivin' and I came to see if you were alright."

She laughed. It wasn't a happy sound. It was more of a sarcastic, oh-god-you-can't-be-serious, kind of laugh. "Spike, don't pretend to be my friend. We're not friends. We're nothing to each other. If you didn't have that chip in your head, one of us would be dead by now." She wiped her face, and looked away.

"What's wrong?" he asked, again ignoring what she had said.

"She's sick," she whispered. "She… She's been having headaches… She's staying overnight at the hospital. She's getting a CAT scan…" She never looked to him. She stared at a section of grass, and mentally mapped out patterns she saw in the different shades. It wasn't until she heard a muffled _thunk_ that she looked up. His hand was bleeding, and there was a fist shaped dent in the tree next to him. "What the hell?"

"Sorry. Needed to punch somethin'," he replied, ignoring her curious looks.

"Why—"

"Just needed to, Slayer. I like your mum. She doesn't deserve to be sick."

"No one _deserves _it," she replied.

"Well, yeah. But you know what I meant," he said, taking a seat next to her.

She didn't move. She watched as he flexed his hand, and she could hear the joints grinding together. She remembered many times where her fists looked similar to his own. Bloody knuckles, sharp pain. Part of being the Slayer. "Think you fractured it," she said, taking his hurt hand into both of her own. "Does this hurt?" she asked, pushing on one of the knuckles.

He hissed, "Yes!" But he didn't jerk his hand away. He relished the feeling of her small fingers poking and prodding his. Who knew such a small hand could pack such a punch? He did. The things he'd imagined her doing with those hands…


	5. Chapter 5

Abruptly, she stood up, and walked to the door. "Do—do you wanna come in?" He stood and followed her in. He shut the door and watched as she piddled around the kitchen. He sat at the island, and waited. It was several minutes before the silence was broken. "You like marshmallows, right?" she said, placing a mug of hot chocolate in front of him. He nodded, but remained quiet.

She stood across from him, sipping her own cup, and stared into it as she drank. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. The sound of his voice startled her, but she didn't let it show.

"I don't know. Dawn's at Janice's. Willow's with Tara. Xander's with Anya. No idea about Giles…"

"So what about ya Army Boy?" he asked, not hiding the malevolence he felt toward the man.

"I don't know…" she mumbled. "I haven't called him. They patrolled for me tonight, and I expected he would have called before now, but I haven't heard anything. He's fine though. I know he is," she said. It didn't sound as though she cared.

"And I'm here because…?" She shrugged. "You said yourself that we aren't friends, yet I'm sitting in your kitchen, drinking hot chocolate."

"I don't know, Spike. I don't," she said, setting her cup down. She finally looked up and stared at him. "I don't feel like being alone, but all my friends would make me feel worse. They'd say, 'I'm sorry,' and 'I wish there was something I could do.' And then Willow probably _would_ try something," she scoffed. "I've got too much to worry about than worrying about how they're worrying about me!" She looked down and banged her fist again the top of the table. "I just don't want to deal with it. You're straightforward. You tell me how it is, and you don't try to spare my feelings. Believe it or not, but that's really something I appreciate. You're not afraid to say 'One day you're going to die.' And no, I'm not afraid to hear it. I know it's going to happen. Even if I were a normal person, and not the Slayer, I would still die."

She bowed her head, a small, sad smile on her lips. "You know, when I asked Giles why none of the Watchers Journals said anything about how their slayers died, he was afraid to even say 'dead.' I mean, I get it. It'd be hard to write about how someone you're so close to died." She was quiet as she contemplated her next words. "I'm not afraid to die. I was when I fought the Master, but I'm not now. I'd easily give my life for my friends, my family, hell, even a stranger. I don't welcome it. I don't want it. But it's something I've accepted. I'm here to defend the world, and I will do that until I die. For good."

They stared at each other for a while, neither one of them saying anything else. "I never wanted to die," he admitted. "Since I was a boy, I knew that I would go to school, then to a university. I'd get a job, find a woman, and get married. Never once imagined something different until Dru came along."

"Do you regret it? Her changing you?" she asked.

"Not for a second. I'd never known anything else to life besides what I had encountered. When I met her, my whole world changed. I really had never lived until then. I did what I wanted, when I wanted to do it. I didn't have to worry about rules, or living up to someone's standards. It was so liberating."

"Sounds nice," she said, leaning against the counter.

He stood and approached her. She didn't move as he got closer. He gently placed his unwounded hand on her back and rubbed lightly. He leaned against her, and whispered, "What do you want, Buffy? There's no one to judge you. No one to tell you how you should be, or what you should do. Besides, 'The greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do.' So, tell me love, what is it you want?" He could hear her breathing become labored, and he greatly wanted to know what she was thinking.

"I don't know what I want," she whispered.

"I don't believe you. You want something you can't have. Tell me what it is." He didn't move as she turned around quickly leaving no space between them.

"I want you," she said, looking up into his bright blue eyes. That was what he thought. He grinned and closed the distance between their faces. His lips caught hers and she didn't hesitate this time. They each held their own, each fighting for some semblance of domination. With his good hand on her hip, he easily slid it under her rear and lifted her onto the tabletop.

"Much better," he breathed before kissing her again.

She groaned with a small nod as she dragged her hands through his hair. _Soft,_ she managed to think. _Knew it would be._ It was when he tried to do the same when he gasped in pain.

"Shit," he mumbled, flexing his hand again. His bones were starting to set, but they were setting incorrectly, and it hurt like hell.

"Oh, your hand. C'mon. We need to fix that," she said, sliding from the counter. He didn't say anything else. He followed her into the living room, where she told him to sit. She almost ran up the stairs to gather her first aid kit, something she used just hours before.  
He sat and waited for her to come back down. He honestly could not believe he had kissed her, twice in the same night. And she had openly admitted that she wanted him. "This is insane!" he grumbled to himself. "Utterly ridiculous." He tried figuring out what she was up to. _Would she kiss him and then kill him just because she could? Or would she just pretend it never happened?_  
His head came to attention as he heard her come down the stairs, carrying peroxide and bandages. "What's that for?" he asked, pointing to the bottle in her hand. "Think I need to touch up my roots?" he laughed as he ran a hand through his platinum locks.  
"No," she laughed. A real one. It was music to his ears. "It's for your hand." She set the items on the coffee table and went into the kitchen, returning with a paper towel. She sat next to him, closer than he was expecting. So close that their knees were touching. Hesitantly, he held out his injured hand, and waited.

_Stupid,_ he said to himself. _Why'd I have to punch that damn tree?_ Her fingers barely grazed his bloodied knuckles, and he knew that he'd have goose bumps if he were still alive. She dabbed the peroxide onto the paper towel and rubbed it over his hand. After the blood was removed, she could see the reddened skin and the fractured knuckle.

"I'm assuming you can set it?" she asked, letting go for a moment. He nodded. He placed his wounded hand in his good one and pressed against it firmly. She heard a crack and watched him wince in pain. She winced, too, hearing it. She hated that sound. She grabbed his hand easily and began to unroll the gauze wrap. "I know this isn't really going to help with blood or anything, seeing as you can't pump blood, but it will help keep everything in place. You should be fine in a few hours," she said as she wrapped his hand.

"You sound like you know what you're doing," he said with a small smile.

"Yeah, well, Giles has set quite a few bones for me. I learn quick." She had finished, but she still held his hand. The small smile she had been wearing was now gone. He leaned in and kissed her softly. It was only a small peck, but it was enough to get her heart racing. He could hear it. "Spike," she whispered as he back away. Her eyes were closed as she exhaled. She looked up at him, and he could see the sadness in her eyes. He hated seeing that. "We can't..."


	6. Chapter 6

"We can't..."

"I know, love. I won't do it again, unless you ask." He expected her to scoff, but his undead heart soared when she looked at him again. Her eyes were different. They looked... hopeful. He stroked her face lightly with his good hand, and he almost smirked when she leaned into his touch. "Buffy, there's somethin' I need to tell you," he said bravely. _This is it. This is where I tell her._ He sighed and grappled for the words he was terrified to say. "I—"

"Am I interrupting something?" a strong voice said from behind him. He turned to see who would dare intrude on them, only to see the Enormous Hall Monitor himself. He groaned internally, and immediately moved away from her.

"Riley!" she exclaimed, showing her obvious surprise. "No, you're not interrupting anything. Spike had hurt his hand, and I was just showing him how to set it right." Of course, she wasn't sitting by him anymore. She was on her feet quicker than he thought possible, even with her Slayer speed.

"Right..." He knew the boy knew she was lying. Looks like he wasn't going to call her out on it though.

"Well, best get goin'," he said, standing up. "Thanks for the hand," he chuckled, waving the hurt hand. He slid out the back door and continued on his way, to his _hopefully_ empty crypt.

"So, what was he doing here?" Riley asked, coming closer to her.

"I told you," she said, gathering up the supplies.

"No, you said he had hurt his hand. Why was he here?" She could hear the anger in his voice, and she pretended that it wasn't directed at her.

"He just showed up. I didn't ask him here, if that's what you're thinking," she said, pushing past him and up the stairs. She put the items back in their place and walked back down.

"I don't like him being around you," he said. "The looks he gives you... The way he watches you... I don't understand how it doesn't creep you out."

"I'm used to it," she shrugged.

"You shouldn't be!" he exclaimed, grabbing onto her upper arms.

She wrenched away from his grasp, and glared at him. "I can take care of myself, Riley. He's harmless, anyway," she said, walking into the kitchen. She gathered the two mugs and placed them in the sink.

"You had a drink with him?" he asked incredulously.

"This is mom's from earlier," she lied easily.

"Where is your mom?" he asked, curiously.

"She's on a trip," she replied, rinsing out the mugs from earlier.

"Uh huh..."

"Riley, please, stop," she said, facing him brusquely. "It's been a long night, and I really just want to get some sleep."

"I'm sorry," he said, stepping closer. "I just get so worked up when I see him... He really drives me crazy."

"I know what you mean," she mumbled.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked as he wrapped his arms around her. She never realized how big he was. Almost suffocating. He leaned in and kissed her softly, but temptingly (to him). His kisses were so different from Spike's. Riley was hesitant, but eager. Seeking to please, but not quite hitting the mark. Quite similar to sex with him, actually. He was trying to go the extra mile, while she had to restrain herself.

Spike, however, was pushy, holding his own. Just moving his lips with hers made moan. She could only imagine what sex with Spike would be like. _Bad Buffy! _But it was then, that she realized something. Spike was right. She did need someone who could match her strength. She didn't need to worry about someone hurting them while she was under attack. She needed someone supernaturally strong, resilient, cunning, smart...

"Riley..." she sighed. It must have sounded like a moan because he only brought her closer. "Riley, I need to talk to you."

"Okay. Do you want to talk during or after?" he said as he slipped a hand under the edge of her shirt.

"What?" she almost screamed as she pushed him away. "Neither. I said we need to talk, and we need to talk now."

"What is it? What's wrong, Buffy?" he asked, taking the hint and stepping away.

"So many things," she said cryptically. "But right now, we need to focus on us_..." This was going to be hard._ "Riley, I don't think we should see each other anymore." _Maybe not that hard._

"What? Why? Is this because of Spike?" he asked quickly.

"Where did that even come from? And no! Not everything I do revolves around him. In fact, nothing I do does. Riley, you're a great guy. You really are. But I've been thinking lately. We really don't have that much in common. I mean, I know we fight demons on a daily basis, and we know of the supernatural crap that happens around here, but..."

"It's not enough..." he sighed. He hung his head, and stared at the ground. "I knew this was going to happen sooner or later."

"What do you mean?" she asked, curious.

"I mean that I always knew you'd realize that no matter how much I loved you, you wouldn't be able to love me. I don't blame you. I do love you, Buffy Summers, but I've known for a while that something would change."

"So why didn't you say something before now?" she gaped.

"I had hoped I was wrong. Right, well, good night, then. I really hope we can still be friends, but I understand if you don't want that," he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the cheek. He walked toward the front door, and reached for the knob.

"Riley," she said from behind him. He turned and looked at her, waiting for the question. "How did you get in here?"

"Through the front door," he said, opening the door.

"I locked that when I got home," she said. She sighed and held out her hand. "Give it to me." He lowered his head and smiled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. "I didn't know we gave you a copy."

"Ahem... you didn't. I had one made. Just in case."

"Good night, Riley," she said, opening the door.

"Good night, Buffy." He was almost off the porch when he spoke up. "Is it just me, or is it unseasonably cold?" She stepped out with him and agreed. She looked up at the dark, overcast sky, and saw something coming towards her. "It's snowing," he said in awe.

She resisted a groan and settled for a chuckle. "Looks like hell is freezing over," she said quietly. She immediately returned inside and locked the door behind her, placing Riley's old key in the key dish. She walked to the backdoor to lock it as well when she noticed a red dot coming from the tree line.


	7. Chapter 7

She walked to the backdoor to lock it as well when she noticed a red dot coming from the tree line. She smiled and shook her head before stepping outside to join him. "I thought you left," she said as she took a seat on the swing.

"And I thought I was going to get a free show," he chuckled as he approached her.

"You're a pig, Spike," she said.

"Well if I'm anything like the one you've got on your bed, I'm cute and cuddly." The smile was a full smirk now.

She rolled her eyes and replied, "I mean dirty and full of crap."

He laughed as he came up the few stairs and stood in front of her. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, flicking his cigarette onto the ground. She shifted over to one side and gestured for him to sit.

"How much did you hear?" she asked as she fiddled with her hands.

"What makes you think—" her disbelieving glance cut off his words. "Right. All of it. Why'd you lie to him?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking around at the falling snowflakes.

"I mean, he asked about why I was there, the mugs, your mum... You dodged the truth."

"That's not lying. That's just withholding information..." she said.

"Practically the same thing! So, why did you?"

"It wasn't his business. Unless the thing with mom is serious, I'm not telling anyone. As far as us drinking some cocoa, that doesn't matter."

"What about what else has happened between us?" he asked quietly. He didn't want to be rejected so soon after succeeding.

"That's definitely none of anyone's business besides yours and mine," she said, looking at him seriously.  
"So, where does that leave us?" he asked, lowering his gaze. _This is it. This is where she tells me to get lost and never talk to her or even look at her again. God, I'm not worthy of her. Why do I even think I can have her? It's like Cecily all over again... I'm beneath her. I'm so far under, and there's no possible way to come back up._

"I don't know... God, this is happening so fast. It's already driving me crazy... Spike, I'm going to be completely honest, and please... _please_... don't say or do anything until I'm finished. And please, don't let this go to your head! God knows you don't need a bigger ego." He looked at her and nodded in compliance. She inhaled and exhaled deeply before continuing. "Lately, well tonight in particular, I haven't been able to get you out of my head. So many things you do piss me off that I can't begin to count them. But I know I can count _on_ them. Like the way you criticize my fighting. If you didn't do that, I wouldn't get better. And the way you tell me exactly what I don't want to hear. It doesn't matter if I want to hear it or not, but it's good you tell me anyway. It makes me see things differently. Oh, and the way you make _everything_ into a sexual innuendo! I have to watch what I say so I know it can't be taken that way. It makes me think before I talk, and it helps..."

She sighed and he looked at her with a smirk. She wanted to punch him for looking at her that way, but she also just wanted to kiss him again. _Anyone wearing a smirk like that _should not_ be that sexy..._ "I swear The Powers have it out for me or something. Here it is, snowing on the damn Hellmouth, all because of a thought I had tonight..."

"Think your thoughts are that important?" he chuckled. She glared at him for a moment before he said sorry.

"They're proving a point."

"And what point is that, exactly?"

"Earlier, I said to myself that hell would freeze over before I admitted being attracted to you."

He was grinning now. How could he not be? The most beautiful and powerful girl in the world just said she was attracted _to him!_

"Stop smiling like that!" she practically growled. "Besides, I'm not finished yet!" She slapped his shoulder, and while he sobered up, she smiled lightly. "Something else I realized is that, you were right."

"About what? I'm right a lot."

"About me needing someone who's not Riley. Yeah, he's smart, strong, brave, and awesome, but he's not for me. I have to been _careful_ with him. One hug too tight and I could break some of his ribs. One of the times we sparred, he told me not to hold back, and I ended up kicking him across the room. He had four fractured ribs, and a slight concussion. I was still holding back! He really had problems with me being stronger than he is. If we ever were attacked by more than three baddies, I had to keep looking over my shoulder to make sure he was okay. Before tonight, I never realized how badly that bothered me."

They sat quietly for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. She realized he wasn't going to say anything, and there was something that was still bothering her. "Spike... Before Riley showed up, you said you wanted to tell me something... What was it?" They were looking at each other again. His blue eyes bore into her greens ones, and they could see the other was scared. Why wouldn't they be? Changes can be scary.

He sighed and gulped. "I wanted to tell you that... I lo—I like you, Buffy. A lot. I know that sounds ridiculous. Hell, I'm a grown man, and I can't believe I'm saying this. I care about you. All that talk about me wanting to kill you and all that rot, it was all for show. I haven't _wanted_to kill you for so long. I know it's not right. A vampire shouldn't love a human; much less the Slayer, but I can't help how I feel." He was massaging his itching, healing hand subconsciously, while he waited for her to respond.

"Oh," she said quietly.

"'Oh'? I spew my feelings for you, and you say 'Oh'? Dammit, Slayer. You drive me crazy!" he said, standing to get away from her. "You don't just say 'oh' and expect that to be enough. Tell me to sod off or punch me, or even tell me you feel some semblance of that for me. I don't care what you do. Just don't say something noncommittal! Damn woman..." He was pacing in her back yard now, well more than twenty feet away from her. He felt it was a good, safe distance. "Tell me something! Why is it you never revoked my welcome, hmm? Why am I still invited into your home whenever I damn well please? Why haven't you killed me by now?" He turned to her, intending to stomp towards her, to find her standing at the edge of the porch. "Buffy, you're all I bloody think about. _Dream _about. You're in my gut... my throat... I'm drowning in you, Summers. I'm drowning in you. And if you don't feel something, then let me know now. I'll leave you be. You'll never see or hear from me again."


	8. Chapter 8

"Buffy, you're all I bloody think about. _Dream _about. You're in my gut... my throat... I'm drowning in you, Summers. I'm drowning in you. And if you don't feel something, then let me know now. I'll leave you be. You'll never see or hear from me again."

She felt something then. Fear. She thought about not seeing or hearing from Spike again, and it scared her. Who would help with Dawn if she was fighting off Glory? Who else could she depend on to keep her family safe? Who else was strong enough? Angel was gone, and never coming back. Willow was a witch, but still human. She couldn't defend anyone from anything. Giles was much the same way. She needed him to stay, to help. To be with her. _Amazing how long it took you_, her brain told her.

"Spike," she whispered, walking towards him. "Don't go. I... I need you. I care about you, too. This is all so bizarre, but it—it feels right." She pushed herself forward and pressed her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck. She smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist, and ran his tongue across her lips, asking for entrance. She complied, and tasted him again for the third time that night. Buffalo wings, cigarettes and alcohol, all mixed with a taste that was uniquely Spike. She realized then that she actually enjoyed it. She liked the way he kissed her, the way he made her feel just by kissing her. She would take the stupid nicknames and innuendos and whatever else that came with it as long as he continued to care about her as he did now, she would be happy.

"God, Buffy. I dreamed of you saying that for so long," he said as he put his forehead on hers.

"So, what are you going to do now?" she asked.

"About what?"

"Well, if we're going to be together, then you can't exactly be evil, now can you?"

"I don't know. Guess I'll be a renegade. Vampire that helps the Slayer, kills other vamps instead of people. Guess I could help people now..."

"So, you'll be this vigilante, all dressed in black, that no one knows who you really are?" she asked with a smile.

"Don't see why not," he shrugged. "Why?"

"It makes you sound like Batman!"

"Really? Which one? Clooney, Kilmar, or Keaton?"

"Doesn't matter," she said as she shook her head. She kissed him again, and she was surprised when he acted more spontaneously. Within a second, they were cuddling on the ground, practically rolling around in the light snow.

"Oi!" he exclaimed as she ran her snow covered fingers roughly through his hair. "Watch the hair!"

She laughed as she retracted her hands, leaving his hair sticking up in various angles. He rolled them over as she laughed at him. "Hmm," she said as she looked up to him.

"What?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"I like that look for you. Makes you look—"

"Like I've just been shagged silly?" he asked.

"Yeah," she nodded.

He leaned down and moved his lips lightly over her ear. "Promise you love, the after affects are much, much better than rolling around in this pathetic excuse for snow." She shivered and was actually happy that it wasn't due to the strange weather. "Another time, though," he said as he jumped to his feet. He helped her up, and brought his lips to hers for another searing kiss. He breathed deeply as he pulled away, eyes still closed. "I'll never get used to this," he said.

"To what?" she asked, looking up at him expectantly.

"To being able to kiss you. To have you in my arms."

"Hmm," she agreed with a nod. Kissing him was so much easier. No bulky muscles to surround her. No towering height that she had to break her neck to reach. Just a tip on her toes and his lean frame was enough to make her feel safer than she had in years.

"So, what are we now, Buffy?" he asked. "Just a few hours ago, we were mere acquaintances who pretended not to want to have anything to do with the other. Now, I'm holding and kissing you in your backyard."

"Would it sound too childish to call you 'my boyfriend'?" she asked. He grinned widely, and she took that as a no. "But, there are some things we have to do." She turned and started to walk towards the house, leaning against his slender frame.

"Like what, pet?" he asked, running his hand lightly against her exposed skin at her hip.

"Like getting you out of that crypt and into an apartment. Like you getting a job, or reasonable means of income since you won't be getting money from Giles or me. And like telling my friends and family that I dumped a really nice guy to be with an evil vampire." They were at the backdoor now, and she was pressed against the siding. She looked scared and hopeful, but completely determined.

"Sounds like a plan, luv. Though it looks like we won't have to worry about one of them," he said, looking at the door next to them.

"Huh?" she said, turning to look for herself. Sure enough, Dawn was on the other side, staring at them with a giant smile. Buffy launched into the house with Spike in tow. "Dawn! I thought you were at Janice's!"

"I was. I mean, I technically still am. I forgot something, and I came back for it. I saw your coat hanging up, and I called for you, but you didn't answer. I checked your room, and you weren't there. I know how you like to come out here sometimes, and here you are. _With_ Spike. Hi, Spike," the babbling teenager said.

"Hey, Nibblet," he said, leaning against the door.

"So, what happened to Riley?" Dawn asked, crossing her arms, giving off a very blatant 'you've got some explaining to do' look.

"I broke up with him," Buffy said easily.

"For Spike? I mean, I heard what you said."

"Then why did you ask?"  
"Because I've been waiting for you to admit you had feelings for Spike. Is that why it's snowing outside?" Dawn giggled.  
She gave him a pointed look that clearly said "told you so..." "Maybe. Look Dawn, you can't tell anyone, okay? It's not that I don't want them to know. I just can't tell them yet. I mean, I literally just broke up with Riley today. How would it look if I said 'Hey guys, I broke up with Riley. Meet my new boyfriend!'?"  
"Buff, it doesn't matter what they think," Dawn said. "When are you gonna get that? They're your friends. If you're happy, then they should be happy for you."  
She was smiling now. "How'd you get so smart, huh?" she asked her younger sister. She realized now that the girl was no longer a kid.  
"I read," she said with a shrug."Well, I'm headed back to Janice's! Good night!"  
"Good night, Dawnie. Be careful."  
"I will, I will. Love you!" she said as she reached the front door.  
"Love you, too," they called simultaneously. They gave each other curious looks. She was blushing, and he knew on the inside, he was, too.


	9. Chapter 9

"Love you, too," they called simultaneously. They gave each other curious looks. She was blushing, and he knew on the inside, he was, too.  
"Do you?" she asked. He nodded sheepishly. She smiled, but it faded quickly. Her head dropped but only for a second. He placed a finger under her chin and pushed it back up.  
"It's okay that you don't. I've known I've loved you for a while. You've only realized you don't hate me tonight," he chuckled.  
"I think I can, though. Love you, I mean. Now that I don't hate you, I can see that it wouldn't be hard to fall for you."  
He grinned and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her in for a passionate kiss. "You don't mind me saying it, do you? You don't care if I say, 'I love you, Buffy Summers,'?" he asked. His eyes pleaded that she say no.  
"Honestly... No, I don't mind. It's nice to hear, even if I feel like I should tell you that you don't. How am I to know how you feel when I'm not sure myself..."  
He couldn't stop himself from kissing her again. He grinned, as he pulled away. She seemed too reluctant to stop. "Best be off," he said.  
She frowned, but nodded. "Yeah, I need some sleep. It's been a long day, and tomorrow's only going to be worse."  
"Why's that?" he asked.  
"Murphy's Law. Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. It's the perfect motto for me," she chuckled.  
"Well today has been pretty great. And for me, tomorrow's only going to be better."  
"And why's that?"  
"Because tomorrow, everyone gets to find out your my girl. Sod the world and the rest who think we're wrong or stupid. They're not us and they can't tell us how we should be."  
"Fair enough. Good night, Spike."  
"Good night, love." He sighed and reached into his pocket, to come out empty handed. He didn't really feel like smoking. "Well, I hope Harm finally left," he said as he walked out the front door.  
"She's still at your place?" she asked, not bothering to keep the jealousy out of her voice.  
"No, love. I told her to leave Sunnydale and to go bother Angel in LA. I just hope she listened to me," he explained.  
They said good night again, and she locked the door, again, after watching him walk down the sidewalk.  
As she walked up the stairs, she felt exhaustion creep into her system, and everything from the past 24 hours hit her like a ton of bricks. She'd been stabbed by her own stake, lived a small portion of Spike's undead life, made out with Spike, found out her mother was sick, broken up with Riley, made out with Spike some more, gotten caught by Dawn, and been told by Spike that he loved her. _Damn, what a day_, she thought as she stepped into her room.

Habitually, she started to undress until she remembered something Spike said. She walked over to her window and searched for some sign that Spike was watching her. Her eyes stopped on the tree he had punched earlier and smiled. She could barely see him standing there, but she knew it was him that was standing there. She turned away from the window and pulled her shirt over her head. She grinned like a Cheshire as she unhooked her bra, and lowered the blinds as she pulled it off. Served him right for watching her.

She changed into her pajamas and flicked her bedside light on, and she began searching through some of her literature books she had used for school. She found the one she thought was the right one and flipped it over to the index. "Effulgent... Effulgent... Eff... Ah ha!" she quickly flipped to the page and read the poem aloud.

"My soul is wrapped/ in harsh repose,/ midnight descends/ in raven-colored clothes/ but soft... behold!/ A sunlight beam cutting a swath of/ glimmering gleam./ My heart expands,/ 'tis grown a bulge in it,/ inspired by your beauty... effulgent." She flipped through several pages before finding the authors' name and biography.

_William Pratt. 1853-1880. There is little known about Pratt. He was born in London, and it is known he studied at Oxford before coming to his untimely end at the young age of twenty-seven. This is the only poem of his ever discovered and published._

Buffy closed the book and smiled. She knew she'd read those words somewhere before. She had even written a paper on it. She smiled as she laid on her bed. For now, her worries were forgotten, and she was more content with her life than she had been in a while. Whatever happened tomorrow, would be dealt with when it happened. And it made her happy when she realized she had someone she could count on to be there when she needed him. Spike. A smile was on her face as sleep overcame her.


End file.
